


hanging with tens

by fraldariuwus (sakesword)



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Background Dorolix, Day At The Beach, F/M, Fire Emblem Heroes Beach Units, Hand Jobs, Humor, Kissing, Oral Sex, Smut, Sylvain is thirsty for more than Baja Blast, Vaginal Fingering, suikawari, sylvgrid NSFW weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakesword/pseuds/fraldariuwus
Summary: Sylvain joins his girlfriend, Ingrid, and some other friends on a beach getaway. Everyone is quite distracting in their swimwear, but Ingrid is especially so.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 43
Collections: Sylvgrid NSFW weekend 2020





	hanging with tens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightsdawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsdawn/gifts).



> I was inspired by the new Sylvgrid units that came out for Fire Emblem Heroes!
> 
> Written for Sylvgrid NSFW Weekend 2020 and my amazing friend Nightsdawn.
> 
> The prompt was Games!
> 
> Thank you for all that you do!!! I hope you enjoy this hehe.

Two for Ingrid. The melon floats are icy in Sylvain’s hands when he picks them up from the wooden beachside bar.

Soon they’ll all settle in and enjoy this much-needed getaway. The coarse, hot sand between his toes eases Sylvain into relaxation as he approaches where Ingrid, Felix, and Dorothea await. From afar, it seems Felix already spread out the beach blanket, he’s working on opening a colorful umbrella, even though Dorothea is already wearing a hat.

“Two floats for the two most beautiful ladies on the beach,” Sylvain jokes, relishing in Ingrid’s pout before he hands both of them to her.

“Sylvain!” Both Ingrid and Felix admonish him. Dorothea rolls her eyes so hard they reach the brim of her hat.

When Sylvain sprawls out onto the blanket, he wraps his arm around Ingrid’s bare waist. The innocent, yet sexy bikini, her golden hair gathered into a low ponytail that kisses the small of her back. Dorothea’s stylish, magenta-and-black ensemble. Felix’s rippling abs and tight aerodynamic trunks. This is going to be the best vacation ever.

“Thank you.” Ingrid’s tone is polite before she starts sucking down the first of the two festive beverages. The pure joy across Ingrid’s face, her eyes closed, the sputtering sound when she reaches the bottom of the glass with enthusiasm—Sylvain will never tire of watching Ingrid indulge. 

“Felix,” Dorothea coos, wiggling a bottle of sunscreen, “could you get my back, darling?” 

Lucky.

“Fine,” Felix says as he clutches the bright blue tube and squirts some of the coconut-scented cream onto his hand.

Sylvain resists the urge to offer his assistance. Self-awareness, huh?

Instead, Sylvain chooses to help his own girlfriend, “Allow me to do the honors, Ing.”

“I already applied some before we got to the beach,” Ingrid states.

“You could help Felix with mine, Ingie,” Dorothea teases.

What Sylvain wouldn’t give.

There’s a stir within Sylvain’s boardshorts. Not now; they just got here. There’s gotta be something else to focus on… 

The Professor: black bikini, overflowing, too hot. 

Rhea: the archbishop doesn’t look bad, either. Does the Church approve of that? Well… she is the Church… 

Lorenz??: High-cut bottoms. Another attempt to one-up Sylvain.

Sylvain tries and tries, scanning the beach until he settles on something not even the greatest artist in Fodlan could make attractive.

Gilbert Pronislav. In a thong.

Sylvain exhales a sigh of relief and returns his gaze to the friends in front of him. That was close.

Poor Sylvain. When he stares down he notices Ingrid is on her knees, leaning forward on the blanket to dig through her bag. Not this angle. Not the angle that allows Ingrid’s cheeks to peek out of her bikini’s short shorts. This is just going to happen all day, isn’t it? 

Rather than think of Gilbert again, Sylvain accepts his fate. Whoever designed swimwear was a genius, he’ll have to thank them, or give them some Gautier lands later. Sylvain pinches the circular frame of his dark glasses and pushes them up to get a better view, then he fidgets with his crystal pendant

“Why are you so quiet?” Felix asks as he rubs at Dorothea’s shoulders.

“Oh, nothing!” Sylvain laughs. Yet, Felix understands his simple mind, Sylvain has to change the subject. “Maybe we should play a game. Ingrid and I brought a watermelon.”

“Oh!” Dorothea beams, “Yes, let’s!” She then turns to Felix, “Good thing you brought your practice sword. I have my blindfold.”

Ah, the summertime classic. What a windfall of events. Their watermelon, Felix’s sword, Dorothea’s blindfold—Dorothea’s blindfold???

She wasn’t lying. Dorothea pulls out a pink silk wrap scalloped with black lace from her decorative beach bag. What else could be in there?

“Sylvain.” Ingrid brings him back to reality. Of course, she already finished her second melon float. “Are we going to smash the watermelon or not?”

Sylvain grins as he palms the heavy, juicy, round fruit. “Let’s do it.”

Unfortunately, they have to leave the safety of the shade to set this up: laying out a towel, placing the watermelon atop, and equipping Ingrid with the blindfold. At first, Sylvain wants to be the one to tie it, but Dorothea pushes him out of the way, “I’ll take care of this for you, Ingie.”

Sylvain doesn’t mind.

It takes a few rounds for everyone other than Felix to get the hang of the game. With this level of competition, Sylvain wouldn’t be surprised if this were the only reason Felix agreed to come to the beach. Dorothea must have been training with Felix, because she’s actually the closest to victory before a _crack!_ sounds and Felix, Crest of Fraldarius-flaring, utterly and completely decimates the watermelon in a mess of rind and pink flesh. 

Regardless of the state of the fruit, it’s welcome after the sun has been beating down on them. They finally return to the comfort of their shaded retreat and Felix unsheathes a knife to take care of it, cutting three equal portions and one larger for Ingrid. 

“Mmm!” Ingrid says, “I really worked up an appetite.”

Sylvain isn’t too hungry, but once the sweet and refreshing flavor hits his tongue, he has to finish it. Ah, it’s so nice here, far from their daily lives; Sylvain can recline and hold Ingrid again, can stare at their friends through his shades, can stare at everyone else enjoying the beach.

“Why don’t we take a dip, darling?” Dorothea suggests. It’s not really a suggestion, though. 

“Fine.”

“You’ll be okay if I leave you here, right, Ingie?”

Ingrid flushes, then responds, “Yes, Dorothea.”

Damn, Dorothea is good at this.

“We’ll see you later.” There’s a slight wink in Dorothea’s tone as she drags Felix toward the sparkling sea.

“Ah, just me and you.” Sylvain stretches to pull Ingrid closer again.

“Yeah,” Ingrid agrees, nuzzling up to Sylvain. His heart races.

“I needed this.”

“Me too.” Sylvain strokes through Ingrid’s beautiful hair. He glances down, over her cleavage and tight body.

“You look gorgeous today.”

Ingrid pauses before she says, “Thanks.”

Sylvain kisses Ingrid’s cheek, “Love you.”

He didn’t mean to incite anything from Ingrid, but her hand caresses Sylvain’s jaw and she kisses his lips, right there, on the blanket, where anyone could see. It’s not that bad if they do, but it’s only going to make him want to do more, especially after today. He deepens the kiss.

The exposed flesh of Ingrid’s breasts gets pressed against Sylvain as they continue, tongues sliding together.

“Wait, Ingrid.” Sylvain withdraws when fire pools low in his belly, “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”

He expects Ingrid to balk, to say something like, _don’t get ahead of yourself_. But Ingrid only retrieves a towel from her tote. She then drapes it over their laps, her hand descending to trail along Sylvain’s thigh.

“Ingrid? What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Ingrid lies; her hand is over where Sylvain’s dick rests in his boardshorts. He’s been half-hard all day, but now he’s stiffening into her curled fingers.

Sylvain lets Ingrid do what she wants, gripping her tighter. 

She’s pulling at the ties, she’s digging beneath his waistband, “Dorothea and Felix won’t be back for some time.”

“That’s true,” Sylvain groans as she pumps his cock beneath his shorts and the towel. “Goddess, you’re hot.”

Sylvain’s hand runs along Ingrid’s rib cage as he reaches to touch her through her jade top. Her nipple hardens when he swipes his thumb across before he palms her breast in full. So soft; the difference between the warm flesh spilling out and the thin, plasticy material of her swimwear consumes Sylvain’s consciousness.

Plus, she’s gotten so good at jerking him off, even under his clothing.

Sylvain needs to return the favor, he releases Ingrid’s breast to trace over her hip bone. The elastic bathing suit material is so easy to get beneath, so Sylvain can rub over Ingrid’s already wet heat.

“Sylvain,” Ingrid whines as she increases the speed of her hand.

“Fuck.” Sylvain inhales, his fingers dip lower to play with Ingrid’s slit before he slips one inside. Under the terry cloth, no one knows, not even the man strutting across the beach before them, today is _perfect_. “Do you like it?”

Of course, Ingrid likes it. She’s squinting her eyes, her movements on his cock getting clumsier, her grasp looser, “ _Yes._ ”

It’s not long before Ingrid halts completely; Sylvain is circling her clit, Ingrid’s wet, twisting beneath the towel, biting back a moan.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yes…” Ingrid breathes.

“Do you want to come here?” Sylvain whispers. “On the beach?”

“Sylvain,” Ingrid huffs. “Just get on with it.”

She’d never beg for it, but banter is sometimes Sylvain’s favorite part of being with Ingrid, the one who has been by his side for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t make her beg—Sylvain does what he does best and soon Ingrid’s coming from his hand, panting, her chest heaving as she leans back further, opens her legs wider.

Ingrid looks spent, flushed and exhausted, even though her hand is still over Sylvain’s cock.

“Mind if I finish myself?”

“Go ahead.”

“Let me see you.” Sylvain nudges the covering off of Ingrid. The damp spot on her bottoms is exactly what he was looking for. That coupled with how alluring Ingrid is, even more so now that Ingrid is satisfied.

Sylvain’s cock is hard, slick with precum. Ingrid’s fit body, her sparkling eyes, her shiny lips. How she tastes of watermelon and creamy melon soda. The warmth of her sun-kissed skin. Ingrid’s pussy around him—his fingers, his cock. How she _wanted_ this.

“Show me your tits, Ingrid.”

It might be a selfish request, but Ingrid does it. Looking to both sides before she faces only Sylvain, Ingrid flashes a glimpse of one of her perfect pink nipples and Sylvain has to hold back from being torn apart by only that. He starts fumbling toward her breast with his other hand.

“Goddess, I’m so lucky,” Sylvain sighs when he makes contact.

“Are you almost there?” Ingrid’s pretty, emerald eyes bore through Sylvain when she questions. 

Dark eyelashes, gems.

”Yeah…” Sylvain admits before he realizes what is imminent, “Where should I…?”

Ingrid answers by burrowing under the towel to take Sylvain in her mouth.

It’s enough. More than enough.

More than enough to send Sylvain over the edge.

Ingrid taps the head of Sylvain’s cock with her tongue and draws it—a few hot spurts—out of Sylvain. He’s shaking when he finishes, limbs made of jelly, nonfunctional belt disheveled, diagonal over his abdomen, showing more than a smidge of Sylvain’s hip like he intended.

“Sorry, Ing,” Sylvain says. “I’ll get you another float.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, feel free to let me know what you think.
> 
> I am sorry about Gilbert lmao
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/fraldariuwus)


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